Chapter Twenty-One
Three hours later and I laid sprawled on my bed in my bra and underwear, completely and entirely over it. The whole fucking thing.
Julian was a serious A-hole.
Damien was an even bigger A-hole.
If I ever saw either of them again in the next five years, there was a ginormous chance I was going to bawl my eyes out like a freaking baby. They were both filthy liars.
There had been more bags of things out in the back of the silver SUV. They’d tricked me. They’d lulled me into a false sense of happiness and relief at seeing the pile of clothes on my bed almost nonexistent.
Damien had also lied about only wanting me to try on a few things, just to make sure they’d got the right sizes. This had been a blatant lie on Damien’s part, and not one I’d soon be forgetting. He made me try on absolutely everything. Jeans. Slacks that I would likely never wear. Leggings in several different colors, also things I would likely never wear. Yellow happened to be my favorite color, but that did not mean I ever wanted to wear a pair of leggings that were yellow in color. If it had been a headband, I absolutely could have sported that. But not the leggings. Somehow, that piece of work Damien, well, he convinced me to put them on. It hadn’t been my finest moment. The red ones, black ones and the purples ones had been an entirely different story. I could wear those colors and not look ridiculous.
Half way through the first pile that had been dumped on my bed, I had given up going to the bathroom to change and had simply changed in front of them. Very wisely, neither had made a peep about this.
Strangely enough, neither of them spoke a whole lot. They’d watch me and make quiet comments about what they’d forced me to try on. I would grunt in response before taking it off and moving on to the next one. I would hand it off to Julian who’d either hang it up in my coffin closet or fold it up neatly and place it in a dresser drawer.
It didn’t take long for them to run out of space. Something I was smug about because I thought it meant they would be forced to return the rest of it. My smugness lasted for a whole half of a minute.
Those A-holes had a solution and answer for everything and this time, they’d thought ahead.
That storage unit Quinton had mentioned to me days before? Well, they’d found a trunk and a dresser that they had thought were simply perfect for my bedroom and just knew I had to have them.
I rolled my eyes and gave in like a good girl without so much as even sending a glare in either of their direction.
I didn’t ogle the antique furniture when they carried it up to my bedroom, though I very much wanted too because they were beautiful pieces. I would do that after torture time had ended and I was left alone to my own devices.
The trunk had been placed at the foot of my bed after the two boxes I had left to unpack had been moved aside. The dresser went against the same wall the love seat was against and below the Bad Religion poster.
At that point I have to be honest here and admit, I kind of checked out because this was when they revealed they had hidden more bags in the SUV.
Half way through that ordeal had me checking back in to tell them that I was done. There would be no more, dress up Barbie here. And if they wanted that, they needed to go and find someone else to play with because I was done.
Damien had opened his mouth to protest this, very stupidly I might add because I was not going down without a fight this time around. Julian had said Damien’s name in a sharp voice and that had been the end of that.
Now I was laying atop a small pile of overpriced clothing on top of my bed in only my bra and underwear, utterly exhausted.
This had not been what I’d agreed to or signed up for.
I closed my eyes and blew out a raspberry. I threw my arm up, resting my forearm across my forehead. My legs dangled off the side of the bed. I would have kicked my feet out repeatedly, but I couldn’t rouse up the energy for it.
Never again.
There was no way any one person needed this much clothes. Half of it I would never even consider wearing. I would try to get them to return it but I knew it would be pointless. After spending the afternoon with Damien, I knew he was going to put in the effort to try and get me to wear all of those things he’d picked out for me that I absolutely hated.
I couldn’t even find it in me to get excited over all of the boots I’d seen but had refused to try on. I had tried on one flat, Mary Jane and had called it quits after that. If they were all the same size and that one had fit me, then it stood to reason that the rest of them would fit me as well. Damien had tried to protest this, but Julian had shot him down pretty hard. Thank goodness for Julian because I wouldn’t have known what to do without him on a day like today. I had seen a whole new side to Damien and, frankly, I had found it to be a tad frightening. Damien loved clothes and not just clothes for himself. I guess I should have taken it a bit more seriously when I’d been told about his room at the Alexander house that he kept because he needed more space for all of his clothes. Apparently, he’d found a new subject to shop for and that subject was me.
Everyone needed a hobby. I just didn’t want to be his.
The bed bounced as a body landed beside me. I cracked my eyes open to see the object of my thoughts lying down beside me on his side.
His hair hung in his face and I had to curl my fingers into fists to stop myself from reaching out and brushing his hair out of his face. I would not touch Damien without invitation. I felt that would be too forward a move for me. Yesterday, I wouldn’t have even thought to reach out and touch him. After spending a few hours with him in my personal space, it no longer seemed like such a big deal to me. He was no longer this scary, dickhead I had first met. He was now just Damien, a normal person like the rest of the guys. Well, not a normal-normal person. None of the guys were normal.
My fists unclenched when he brushed his hair out of his face in a thoughtless gesture and I felt myself relax once again.
He propped his head up in his hand and studied me.
I had to give him credit, his eyes never once went lower than my jawline.
“You’re mad,” he stated in a quiet, cultured voice.
I turned my head away from him until I was staring up at my beautiful dreamcatcher.
Was I mad?
I didn’t even have to think about it.
“I’m not mad,” I told him honestly. “Just tired and overwhelmed.”
He sighed, and I felt him moving around. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and was surprised to see he’d copied me. His back was now flat on the bed and his eyes were aimed at my dreamcatcher.
I laid my hands on my bare stomach and waited. I knew he had something to say after that sigh he’d let out. I could wait him out.
He didn’t make me wait long.
“You didn’t like the clothes,” he said in a tired voice. “Julian warned me. The twins warned me. Hell, even Quinton warned me, and he usually lets me go my own way.”
I found that last bit curious. Quinton didn’t seem the type to let anyone go their own way. Why Damien, of all people? I didn’t know, but I felt it important to remember this moment and what he’d just said. Quinton did everything for a reason. I made a mental note to ask him about Damien. I knew next to nothing about Damien and his past. He was a mystery to me.
“If you really don’t like them, I can take them back,” Damien said in soft voice.
I turned my head to the side and stared at him, not getting it. After all we’d just gone through? All I needed to do was tell him I didn’t like the clothes he’d gotten for me and he would return them? But they’d gone through all that trouble to shop for them and I had no idea how many hours that had taken out of their lives and I wasn’t sure I honestly wanted them to tell me. Then, they had been thoughtful enough to go to Quint’s storage unit and find me something to put it all in. I had no idea how much time and effort they’d spent on that task, either. Then, they’d gone and hauled it all up here to my room where they’d endured my attitude with grace while I’d tried the majority of it on. I know, I know, this last part hadn’t really been my idea, but I was trying to be nice here. They’d even gone to the trouble to put everything away.
I know I’d whined about the entire thing, even before I’d tried the first thing on, and half of the things I didn’t even like and had no intention of wearing. I supposed it no longer mattered, though. They were in my closet and my drawers now, that made them mine. The least I could do was keep them.
“No,” I muttered, sounding defeated to my own ears. “I don’t exactly hate them. I mean, I don’t love all of them, and I’m certain there are a whole lot of things I will never wear, but I would like to keep them. If that’s okay with you? You can take them back, if you want to, but that seems dumb to me and a serious waste of your time.”
His lips twitched, and I fought the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
This conversation was getting us nowhere and real fast.
“Is your cooking really deadly?” I asked him before I could stop myself. This wasn’t me giving up Julian because the twins had claimed Damien’s food would kill someone.
Unbelievably, his cheeks tinted with pink.
His hands tugged at the collar of his shirt, nervously, as he blew out a deep breath.
“No one has died yet,” he muttered sounding embarrassed.
A laugh burst out of me. I covered my hand with my mouth, trying to stop it but it did me no good.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled through my hand and the laughter I was trying to suppress.
He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. I stopped laughing. I didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was.
“If it’s that bad, then why do you keep doing it and making other people eat it?” I asked.
“When I was little,” he said, “my mother used to love to cook. It was the only thing she ever did when she came around. I used to sit in the kitchen and watch her. She’d never let me touch anything and only let me stay if I promised not to get in her way or speak at all. I took it because it was the only time I ever really got to see her. She never stuck around for very long when she came back. I was usually left with the servants.”
I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his voice. I had never heard Damien talk so much.
“I guess it calms me,” he said. “Everyone has something that relaxes them. Reading a book, watching television, working out, running, shopping, those are all things I enjoy doing. But they don’t relax me or help clear my head. I could have a million things going on, clogging up my head space with horrible thoughts and worry, and the only way I can ever get rid of it is by losing myself in cooking. And I think I’m only capable of loosing myself in it because it’s the only time I let myself think about my mother. I used to run for hours, trying to escape the things in my head, and it never worked. I love running. It makes me feel good about myself. But I can’t do it without music, without my headphones in and the music really loud in my ears. Otherwise my thoughts would ruin it for me and make it so I wouldn’t want to run anymore…”
Damien was rambling, but I didn’t mind because his voice was lulling me to sleep. Before it fully sucked me under, I realized that he might be rambling because I made him as nervous as he made me. My lips curled up in a tiny smile at that thought, then I was out.
The next thing I knew, Quinton was looming over me, telling me to wake up.
“Get dressed,” Quinton growled. “We have to go. Now.”
He walked away without telling me where we were going.
I wasn’t surprised, but I was annoyed.
Damien had disappeared while I was sleeping. I was sad to see him gone.